


Good ol' Gumbo

by Babbit



Series: Cooking with RadioDust [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Accents, Cooking, Italian Character(s), M/M, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babbit/pseuds/Babbit
Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust bond over some Good ol' Gumbo.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Cooking with RadioDust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029759
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	Good ol' Gumbo

Alastor loved cooking. He’d been a fan of it ever since he was a _jeune garçon,_ watching his Mama cook for him and being taught the art of gliding around the kitchen like she did, graceful and amazing to watch. He learned many recipes in his time with her, even if his dishes could never compare to her own.

Today he was making some good ol’ gumbo with a particular spider-like pest not leaving his side, watching him work with interest. Despite his original attempts to shoo the unwanted guest, Angel had stayed right behind him, not even having to stand an inch taller to see the food Alastor was preparing, much to Alastor’s chagrin. 

Alastor bared his presence, if only because Angel had taken to cleaning the dishes he no longer needed. Alastor was just mixing in the hot pepper sauce when Angel Dust broke his silence. 

“Smiles,” his voice was abnormally soft, “That looks like it needs a bit of salt.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, but allowed Angel to grab the salt and show it to him childishly. Something about the action made his frozen cold heart feel cold nose-ish. Alastor nodded his head to the pot, throwing in the Cajun seasoning and a few bay leaves. Angel smiled, shaking in just a smidge of salt. Now that wouldn’t do. 

Alastor used one of his hands to grab Angel’s, shaking in at least three tablespoons of the salt. Angel jolted, maneuvering his hand so that Alastor couldn’t put in any more salt. 

“Yo, yo! Smiles, what was that?” Alastor let go of Angel’s hand, and the salt was swiftly put back onto the spice rack. “That was way too much!”

“Mama always said you could never put too much in gumbo.” He supplied an answer, his trans-atlantian accent smoothing down into something like a traditional ‘New Orleans’ one “Den again, she always did think dat my gumbo was much too spicy.”

Angel nodded, seemingly satisfied with Alastor’s ‘cause my mom said so’. Alastor went back to mixing his sauce and putting in the ingredients, just slightly less bothered by Angel’s presence. He hummed, walking over to the fridge and pulling out fresh venison. Not normally an ingredient, but he felt like the gumbo needed more meat. He took it to the cutting board, and set to work chopping the raw meat into pieces he liked, and scooping the rest into his mouth. He put the raw venison into the pot, most definitely in an amount his mama would disapprove of, and stirring it. Angel interrupted his calm once again. 

“Papa would always tell me to ‘follow the recipe, follow the recipe’.” His voice followed Alastors into the more natural accent, “I always did, until I kicked the bucket and remembered my ‘papa’ couldn’t cook to save his life.”

Alastor hummed, listening despite himself, something about the soft voice of Angel being so different from his bombastic normal one drawing him in. Angel chuckled to himself, a cute sound that reminded Alastor of walking into the corner store to buy Mama some butter and hearing the door jingle behind him.

“He could barely boil watuh wit'out burnin' somethin'! I tell yuh, it was like he nevuh learned a damn ting from his mudder.” Angel exclaimed.

“‘E sounds like ‘e couldn’t pour water outta a boot with da instructions on da heel,” Alastor laughed, before looking over to Angel’s surprised face. “Not ta insult your dad, Cher.”

Angel’s face went from surprised to a large smile, an expression Alastor thought he wore quite well for someone like himself. Angel laughed quietly, before it ramped up and he was trying to calm himself unsuccessfully. 

“You've nevuh even met him and yuh got it spot on! I had tuh learn from my mom wit' Molly, yuh with me?” He chortled, obviously enjoying having someone to talk to. It was surprising to Alastor that he was happy to have the conversation as well.

After that they settled into a calm silence, Alastor tossing the orka he had to the side into the bubbling gumbo, and humming as he smelled the mixture and was brought back to Mama’s kitchen. In the memory his mama called for him to get things, and unbeknownst to himself he repeated them aloud as if trying to jog his memory.

“Get da shrimp from da freezer please, oya da fridge if I remembered to thaw dem. If they ain't thawed, run dem under some warm water to get dem ready.” He said to himself, stirring the pot gently and putting in the orka with a spoon. “Da crab meat should be in da bottom drawer, but if it isn't it's in da back next to da leftovers, und check if we have erstas. They're not required, but i just think they add flavor, cher.”

“We doan have oysters, but i can add dem tuh Nifty's shoppin' list, right?” He got in reply, causing him to snap out of his memories and back to reality, where Angel was bent into the hotel’s menial fridge. He was using his left arms to hold out unthawed shrimp and a bag of frozen crabmeat. “De crab meat was in de freezuh, so somebody must have moved if from de place yuh put it.”

Alastor hummed, playing it off like that was on purpose. Something about being in such a relaxed space was making him soft. Angel hurried over to the sink, washing the shrimp and taking out 3 pieces of crab meat. He handed Alastor the shrimp, and went to wash the crabmeat. Alastor put the shrimp in gently, not bothering to remove their tails.

Angel finished the crab meat, and passed it to Alastor. They stayed silent until the Gumbo was finished.

  
  


\---------------------

Angel Dust took a tentative bite of the gumbo, almost scared. Alastor chuckled, expecting Angel Dust to think it was too spicy, as most not from the ol’ Big Easy did. Instead Angel’s face lit up, and he went to town on it, trying to scoop every bit of the gumbo into his mouth. He smiled, pushing his index finger into his cheek with a loud ‘Mmmmm!’

Alastor had seen Angel do the peculiar movement to food before, but something about it made his smile more genuine. Angel quickly finished the gumbo, being sure to practically scrape the plate clean. He clapped his bottom hands, smiling wide. 

“ _Sorprendente! Delizioso_!” Angel exclaimed, setting the utensils down gracefully and smiling widely at Alastor “ Now _that_ was food, Smiles! Tastes like it were made by my mudder, ya’know. Perfect amount of everything.”

Alastor laughed. Not a sadistic one or a crazed one or a fake one. Just a good ol’ southern laugh.

  
  


\---------------------

Angel slid into a bar stool, calling Husk over with a wave. Husk rolled his eyes, and prepared Angel's favourite drink and starting one of his own.

Angel took a long, slow sip and then looked up at Husk. 

"Hey, Huskie, what does Cher mean?"

Husk spit out his drink.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Cher (said "Sha") is a word for "my darling" or "my love". Not always romantic, but it is in this fic.
> 
> The movement Angel made to the Gumbo is a Italian way of saying food is delicious.


End file.
